


Living

by Buttercup_ghost



Category: Star vs. The Forces Of Evil
Genre: Denial, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hekapoo brand support tm, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Overcompensating, Post-Episode: s02e31 Running With Scissors, Self-Denial, Self-Discovery, Spoilers - Running With Scissors, Time Shenanigans, Trans Female Character, Trans Girl Marco Diaz, Trans Marco, Trans Marco Diaz, none of the cast tho they're fine, relatively
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-26 23:26:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12069117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buttercup_ghost/pseuds/Buttercup_ghost
Summary: "if you continue to mess with things like this, things you don't understand, one day it will haunt you. Maybe it already does."Hekapoo wants them to live.(Or: that which slips through your fingers)





	Living

"You can be a man here, Marco." hekapoo states, looking in their eyes, for a brief second. They don't know why they came back, scissors in hand, to her lair, but they did. Everything here is starting to drift when theyre on earth, and the uncertainty of it kills them. It's so different, this life, and that one.

Hekapoo sighs, stretching a bit, almost seeming disappointed, like Marco was missing something obvious. They figured they were. "It will feel weird at first," she spoke, "but if you keep pretending, it will fade. You could fool yourself here, if you'd like."

They're not sure if it's a genuine offer or a callout. They're not sure it matters. Her flame dances, the very flame they spent years blowing out, making wishes on they doubted would ever come true, a pit in their heart, sinking like an ice cube in water with each choice they make. Her yellow eyes flicker to them, in time with the flame.

"But that doesn't sound like you." She states it plainly, like a fact, before drawling, "I can see it in your eyes, you know." It's ridiculous, it's cheesy, and sounds like something from a bad movie. They look up at her, grey skin wrapped around petite fingers, curling in her red hair. She scoffs, a bit, voice annoyed, "don't look at me like that; I've known you for sixteen years, I know how to read you, Marco."

"You're not a guy, Diaz," she begins again, with a sigh, spelling it out, since nothing else seemed to work, "and you can try to fool yourself all you want, but that doesn't sound like you. You never once ran away from me, only towards me, after all."

They pause, looking at her, almost afraid to ask, how, how, how, _how do you know?_ Nothing comes out when they try to speak, anyways, and she shifts, a flicker more of disappointment.

"Do you really want to stay here? It'll get like before, you know, your muscles will grow, shape even out, you'll get brawnier. Do you really want that?" When they don't answer, words caught on their tongue, throat lumping, she speaks for them; "No, no matter how much you bragged, I can see it. You were ashamed of it, your body, your boyishness, and your not sure why." It's an conclusion, but not the end, as this scissor goddess moves yet again, body upright, "Marco. You left, and went to your fourteen year old body, unchanged by the sands of time. Dimensions, they're funny like that. Here, sixteen years past, and there less than sixteen minutes. Some dimensions don't have air, or gravity, and if you went their you'd die instantly, probably. Humans are fragile, after all." she blushes a bit, from getting sidetracked, before continuing, "if you continue to mess with things like this, things you don't understand, one day it will haunt you. Maybe it already does."

"You left here, your time faded out, becoming nothing more than a dream and muscle memory." She laments, a bit of melancholy in her voice. It's been years alone since she last saw them, for her, even though it was the same day for them, the night marking their great escape back to hekapoo, "It will be hazy, and frustrating, but eventually you'll stop dwelling on it, forget about it, only the faint memories of garbled time to haunt you at night." She almost wishes it was the same for her, but it never ends, not really. She's seem millions live, and millions die. It's all the same in the end, humans, monsters, demons, they all turn to dust eventually. But, "You'll live, Marco." No matter what, they've lived. Marco should get a chance too.

"You'll have the chance to stop your body from changing, have the chance to wear dresses and ball gowns, the chance," she says, "to _live_."

"Aren't you ready to give that a try," she looks them in the eyes, standing up fully now, in front of them, "or would you rather keep lying to yourself?"

Marco doesn't know what to say, they don't even know what they feel, they don't know what to do. Would they feel better staying with hekapoo, or worse? Why does home feel so foreign, now?

"It's an amazing thing, living. You should appreciate it, Marco."

She vanishes after that, leaving behind a girl in a red hoodie, unsure if they're really a girl.

Hekapoo knows, though, she can already see the strong princess who sparked a revolution, already see the beautiful, fragile, amazing girl they are. She just hopes Marco gets it before they're out of time.

(Because time, like many things else, slips through ones fingers like broken promises, like the cut down lives she's seen before them, all over before it began; just sand.)


End file.
